


Four Shifts on the USS. Enterprise and One Day of Shore Leave

by Mitsuhachi



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Character of Color, Multi, Polyamory, Sedoretu, Slice of Life, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-05
Updated: 2012-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mitsuhachi/pseuds/Mitsuhachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sedoretu!Fic for kirk/spock/uhura/gaila. Slice of life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Shifts on the USS. Enterprise and One Day of Shore Leave

**Alpha Shift**

Spock is still up when the time comes for Nyota to awake. They could have used the ship’s clock, or any of their pads as alarms, but he prefers to wake her this way: his hand gently tracing over the cool softness of her shoulder and following the curve of her arm to where her hand is curled low on her belly. She hums something pleased and unintelligible, rocks her hips encouragingly but doesn’t open her eyes.

She is beautiful, like this—hair kinked and strewn over her pillow, fierceness not tamed but… relaxed, for a time. For him. He listens to the throaty gasps she swallows when she reaches orgasm, continues to stroke her for a few long seconds afterwards just for the pleasure of watching her arch and gasp. But he does stop, before it becomes too uncomfortable, and feeling her burrow her head against his clothed thigh sleepy and affectionate is it’s own kind of pleasure. “You are awake,” he tells her, hearing the amusement and affection in his own voice and barely feeling the urge to suppress them at all. He can feel her smile pressed into his skin.

“Give me fifteen,” she says, looking up at him with eyes already bright and full of purpose, sleepy languor vanished as though it had never been. “Then let’s go run.”

Spock finds he can think of nothing he would rather do.

**Beta Shift**

Blue Close No Sharp Want Sunlight Blue Sunlight [unknown concept] Come 

The Universal Translator is giving them nothing but gibberish—the frilly-tendriled plant-creatures on this planet must use an extremely different language-structure than any current federation species, because it’s just spitting out concepts with no relationships, not even the vague associations the psy-powered machines can usually be relied on to provide.

Minds Blue Drift Hearts Want Wet-Soil Do Sunlight Frustration [unknown concept] Want

Uhura wants to pull the earpiece away from her head and _chuck_ it. Jim and Spock are working blind down there, and there’s nothing she can do, even though this is her goddamned _job_ …

Work-calloused hands come up from behind her to rest on her shoulders, pressing against the tension-lines in her neck where she carries her stress. “Gaila,” she says, tight and regretful because she knows that Gaila sometimes suffers for being too sexual in front of the IT crew she commands. But Gaila shakes her head, soft curls brushing over Uhura’s bare arms. 

“I’ve got you,” she says, and braces her hands on Uhura’s neck, supporting the curve of her jaw. “You just think.” And so Uhura does. She takes a deep breath, then leans back against Gaila’s hands and listens to the playback again. And then again. And then again until the patterns start to show up, hazy but there all the same. 

“They’re using sense-associations instead of names,” she says slowly, the sense of certainty growing as she speaks. “They might not have a concept of individuals. And their verb patterns are too irregular, they have to be using some sort of non-verbal grammar.” She flips her comm.-signal to ‘transmit’ without even looking,

“Tell me you’ve got something,” the Captain demands, like it’s not even possible she wouldn’t have figured this out.

“We need to reprogram the UT settings for a composite-mind structure,” she tells him, feeling the sharp grin in her own voice. “And have someone down there start doing video-recording too—I think there must be physical changes to their grammar—movement, color or light changes, something like that.” She opens her eyes and the look of fierce joy and pride that Gaila is giving her is enough to take her breath away 

Jim sounds torn. “Seriously? Crap, that’s going to take forever, the UT’s already crazy complex—“

“I’ll handle it,” Gaila purrs into Uhura’s mic and they can both hear his laugh of desperate relief over the comm. as Gaila leans in and kisses her. 

**Gamma Shift**

Gaila runs the dermal regenerator over Jim’s back. McCoy had given it to them after the fifth or sixth time he’d made the mistake of asking her what had messed Jim up so bad and Jim and Gaila had laughed in unison and given him more information than he’d ever wanted. Even McCoy didn’t argue with their methods, though, not with how well they worked. After the mission down to the planet, Jim had come back dirty and gray-faced and without the third member of his landing party. She hadn’t said anything—he was the Captain out there, and none of them would do anything to undermine that—but when she’d come to his quarters after shift-end, he was there, freshly washed and kneeling on the thick carpet beside the bed, so tense with guilt and misery he’d been shaking.

Now he’s stretched out in a boneless sprawl, muscles too worn-out even to twitch as she clicks off the regenerator and sets it aside to just pet him. “Let me help,” she whispers into his hair, speaking in Orion even though she knows he won’t understand. Maybe because he won’t understand. 

Jim pushes himself up onto his elbows, and when he says “Yeah,” his voice is wrecked but already more confident than it had been. “Yeah, okay.”

**Delta Shift**

It’s very late, but not enough to be early by the time he hears Spock come back from the labs. Gaila had napped with him until the end of Gamma, their fingers tangled together on his belly, but she never could get fully to sleep with other people in the bed with her, hadn’t since before her escape. None of them talk about it, too glad to have her at all to be willing to push. Kirk muzzily decides she must have contacted Spock on her way back to her quarters.

He knows that Spock has to know he’s awake—the guy can hear his heartbeat, is probably counting out the pace of Kirk’s breaths as he pads silently across the carpet—but neither of them say anything as Spock neatly removes his uniform and lays straight on his back between Kirk and the door. It’s all clean, proper lines and minimal movement, Vulcan to a tee except that he doesn’t protest in any way when Kirk drapes an arm over his chest and a knee up on his thigh. The sunnofabitch is _warm_ , ok? Kirk is not too proud to admit that he’s totally snuggling here, and while Spock totally IS, he still doesn’t move away. Kirk lets his eyes fall closed again and just breathes.

“Sleep, t’hy’la,” he hears, murmured into the dark of his room when Spock must think he can’t hear it. “I will stand guard. Sleep.”

**Shore Leave**

Lt. Vro's pheromones do not, of necessity, affect Spock. Most of the time, he simply neutralizes the chemical component in his bloodstream before it begins to produce an effect--and of course, Lt. Vro is always very careful to suppress them while on duty. It would be behavior unbecoming of a Starfleet officer and a Vulcan to allow himself to be aroused by a member of his own moiety, utterly unacceptable.

That fact does not imply, however, that he never allows it. 

Sometimes, like today when they are all relieved of duty while the Enterprise is docked for brief inspection and repairs, all four of them gathered in a single hotel-room looking out over the San Francisco bay, he allows his control to slip. He leans back against Jim, Jim’s hard chest a better prop than any of the half-dozen pillows littering the bed, and lets the slow burn of arousal curl through his blood. He feels the way Gaila’s scent, her sheer physical _presence_ awakens something in him he’d only ever felt before in the terrible grip of pon farr. Jim's breath hitches, and Spock can feel the swell of his arousal heavy against the bare skin of his back. “More,” Jim encourages, voice ground down to a low growl, and Gaila makes a high, hungry sound that makes him want to rise from this bed, to take, to claim—

They never touch like this, he and Gaila. It is the one boundary they still keep sacred—though with the way Gaila and Jim seem determined to break the laws of physics one by one, he would not care to bet how long mere laws of men will last. Jim’s fingers trail along the skin of his inner thigh, almost shockingly cold against his feverish skin. On the couch at the far side of the room, he can hear the slick sounds as Uhura teases Gaila higher. 

“Uhura!” Jim demands, meeting his morning-wife’s darkened eyes with his own desperate gaze. “Tell him!” 

He half-chokes on his own breath as Uhura opens her exquisite mouth and begins to speak, low, rhythmic, telling him how she sees him, writhing like a le’matya in heat, deadly and desired; how sweet the lush softness of Gaila’s sex is, scenting the air heavily and making them all drown in desire; describes for him the face Jim tries to bury in Spock’s own shoulder, the tiny beads of green blood welling up where Jim has dug his blunt nails into Spock’s thigh to keep from touching him. 

Spock’s eyes drag open to lock with Gaila’s as she cries out and the delirious scent increases tenfold, and, listening to the words of ancient Vulcan alive still on Uhura’s lips, lets his head fall back against Jim’s shoulder and comes.


End file.
